


Long way from home

by Brosequartz



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alchemist Ana Amari, Ana and Jesse drink tea, Demon Hunter Sombra, Gen, Genji and Jesse flirt, Hunter Jesse McCree, M/M, Monster Hunter AU, Oni Genji Shimada, Sombra and Jesse banter, Supernatural Elements, and they all try to solve a mystery, this is NOT a junkenstein's revenge au despite the fact that I used the name Adlersbrunn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brosequartz/pseuds/Brosequartz
Summary: There's something strange about Adlersbrunn and the monsters that haunt it. McCree, a monster hunter familiar with the town, intends to find out why. He's not alone, but will Sombra's interference be a help or a hindrance? And does his attraction to a certain Japanese demon constitute a conflict of interest?





	1. What are you thinking?

It was drizzling in the Black Forest. Not enough to necessitate running for cover, but enough to make the woods smell like damp earth. McCree breathed deeply, letting the scent fill his lungs. He wasn’t in a hurry. He would be meeting the alchemist at her clinic that evening, but the sun wouldn’t set for hours, though it had been covered with clouds all day. McCree strolled along, not bothering to keep his footsteps quiet. There was nothing that could hurt him out and about in the daytime. And on the off chance there was, he had his Peacekeeper. His hand fell to his hip, feeling it in its holster. The wind changed direction, and he shivered, feeling a chill. He realized his coat was damp. Had he been walking in the drizzle that long? 

McCree found a pine tree to take shelter under, the oaks and elms having all dropped their leaves already. He took off his hat, and shook the water droplets off it. 

“You will be here a long time if you intend to wait until the rain stops,” said a voice just outside his field of vision. 

McCree whipped his head around to see a figure standing 30 paces to his left, dressed in black and wearing a fearsome mask. It had red eyes and red horns, and a terrible grimace of pointed white teeth. But its’ wearer’s voice was almost soothing as it spoke. 

“Although this forest has its charm.”

McCree turned calmly towards the figure, his hand moving to his hip. “What are you?” he asked. No way that thing was human. People didn’t move silently through the woods, no matter how hard they might try to. 

“What am I?” the figure repeated.

“Yeah,” said McCree, not caring to explain himself.

The figure took a step forward. “An interesting question. What do you think I am?”

McCree scowled. “I don’t have time for this game.”

“But you have time to stand under a tree.”

There was a pause.

“Alright, you got me.” A smile twitched at the edge of McCree’s mouth. “Let’s talk. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Ah, now it’s who am I?” The figure took another step forward.

“Now you’re testing my patience,” said McCree, his fingers twitching over the holster at his hip.

“Do not draw that gun,” said the figure, its voice as soft as the rain falling onto the leaf litter. “You have nothing to fear.”

“Do I look scared to you?” McCree smirked.

“I do not have time for this game,” the figure replied. Was that a hint of sarcasm in its voice? 

McCree huffed, frustrated. “We’re getting nowhere.”

“I have nowhere to be.” The figure folded its arms. 

“You some kind of annoyance spirit or something?” McCree’s mouth twitched again.

The figure laughed, an inhuman but not unearthly sound, like wind blowing through long grass. “I like you, gunslinger.”

“Thanks,” said McCree. He wished, briefly, that he could see the figure’s face. He had almost no idea what effect his words were having on the figure. That, and he was curious what its face looked like. “So, you gonna answer my question?”

The figure chuckled, this time like the rumble of a faraway storm. “All right.” It took another step forward. “I am a yokai.”

McCree’s eyes narrowed. “In Germany?” he asked. A Japanese spirit deep in the Black Forest was strange indeed. “You’re a long way from home. You here for a reason?”

“I came to visit a friend.” The yokai didn’t elaborate. McCree was dying to know what its face looked like. Was it messing with him? “A friend”? How could a Japanese yokai have made a “friend” in Germany?

The yokai stepped forward once more. Its footsteps made no sound on the forest floor. Like an unhurried deer, calm and at peace. Or a wolf, sneaking up on its prey. “What about you?” it asked. “An American, in Germany. You, too, are a long way from home.” It tilted its head to the side. God, McCree wished he could see its face. The way it kept repeating his questions back at him was incredibly annoying, but he wasn’t sure if its intent was to annoy. Was it just curious? 

“I’m… working,” he said slowly. He wasn’t sure it was a great idea to tell a spirit he was a hunter. Not that he couldn’t handle it, but the yokai seemed benign so far, and he wasn’t one of those hunters who goaded spirits and monsters into open hostility just to have an excuse to kill them. 

If he wasn’t afraid of it, why was his heart beating so fast? He felt calm, but it was hammering in his chest as though he had just been running for his life. Could the yokai hear it?

McCree blinked, and was face to face with the yokai, scarcely a foot apart. His hand flashed to his hip and in less than a heartbeat his gun was pointed straight at the yokai’s heart. But he didn’t fire it. 

“You are a quick draw with that gun,” said the yokai from behind its mask, apparently unfazed. 

“You’re lucky I don’t spook easy, otherwise I might’ve fired it,” said McCree, not lowering the weapon. He had drawn it on instinct, but he wasn’t a man with an itchy trigger finger. 

“Heh,” said the yokai, “You would not have hit me.” McCree bristled. He was nothing if not a good shot. He had a reputation for it. Got a monster problem? A vampire? A werewolf? Hire Jesse McCree, he’ll kill it with a single bullet. It was awfully bold of this yokai to assume he would miss. 

“And luck,” continued the yokai, “would have nothing to do with it.”

“Do you know who I am?” McCree asked. Was the yokai mocking him? Or was it just very sure of itself? It had just demonstrated how fast it was capable of moving, after all.

“Should I?” asked the yokai. McCree didn’t reply, staring at it over the barrel of his gun. He was tired of it answering his questions with more questions. A moment stretched out between them, silent but for the whisper of the rain.

Then the yokai spoke again. “I only know you are a traveler I saw in the forest,” it said. There was an air of sincerity in its voice that made him believe it. He lowered his weapon.

“Why stop me, then?” he asked.

“I did not stop you. You stopped yourself. Under this tree,” the yokai said, a playful lilt in its voice again.

“You know what I mean. Why talk to me? You obviously could have avoided me, so clearly you didn’t want to.”

The yokai lifted its hands and placed them on the tree, one arm on either side of McCree’s head, caging him against the trunk. His heart skipped a beat, and he found himself leaning back against it. “You seem interesting,” the yokai said, its voice soft. Up this close, McCree could tell it was muffled ever so slightly by the mask. He decided to try his luck.

“So do you. Sure would be nice to see what’s under that mask. Or are the horns real?” He smiled, hesitant.

The yokai said nothing for a moment, then reached up to pull its headwrap aside. McCree felt his heart somehow pick up again, beating even faster now.

The yokai lifted its mask. Beneath it was a heavily scarred face, human but for the eyes. They were black like pools of ink, and bore into Jesse’s own. Its face was handsome, scars and all. Very much so. The yokai blinked, and Jesse exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The corner of the yokai’s mouth twitched up, just a little. 

“I gotta say,” McCree murmured, his face inches from the yokai’s own, “the real thing looks much better than that mask.” 

The yokai laughed darkly. “You flatter me.”

“Darlin’, I would never,” McCree insisted. He wasn’t a man who gave false compliments. There was a difference between being a charmer and a liar, and he was the former. This creature’s face was enchanting, scars or no. He meant what he had said.

The yokai paused, expression shifting. McCree tried to make sense of it, staring silently into the yokai’s eyes for a long minute. Even the rain sounded like it was hushing him, and he said not a word. His damp coat was all but forgotten as the two stared into one another, unspeaking.

The yokai’s gaze flicked from Jesse’s eyes down to his lips. 

“May I?” it asked.

Jesse nodded minutely, his heart racing. The yokai closed its eyes and leaned forward, to press a gentle kiss to Jesse’s lips. It lasted only a heartbeat, but it took Jesse’s breath away. The yokai pulled back with the tiniest sigh, and opened its eyes.

“We shall meet again,” it said, and pulled its mask back down.

Jesse blinked, and was alone. He gasped in a breath, and placed a hand over his heart. It was still hammering in his chest, racing like a spooked horse. He took deep breaths, until it slowed. 

 

\---

 

The air in the alchemist’s clinic smelled funny. The scent of turpentine mixed with that of whatever healing hocus-pocus she did with her potions, as well as the herbs piled high on the shelves, and the tea steeping on the table. McCree watched steam rise from the teapot’s spout, waiting for the alchemist to return from the kitchen.

The clink of teacups on the table made him look up, and he smiled at the old woman. 

“Let me help you with that,” he offered, as she began to pour the tea. 

She pulled the teapot out of his reach. “I don’t think so,” she said drily, “not after the teacup you dropped the last time you were here.” 

“I didn’t even break that!” he protested, “Only chipped it.”

She fixed him with a look that he would have thought was condescending if he didn’t know her. But he did, and he could see the fondness in her eyes, beneath the exasperated glare. 

McCree raised his arms in surrender, and sat back in his chair. “It’s good to be back in this neck of the woods,” he mused, accepting his cup of tea and blowing on it. The alchemist raised her eyebrows at him.

“Well,” he said, “all things considered.” He gave her a sheepish smile.

She chuckled and sat back, holding her teacup in both hands and taking a sip. “So,” she said, and the word seemed to clear something out of the air, something uncomfortable and tense. McCree relaxed as she continued, the atmosphere warm and pleasant. “Have you been practicing those tricks I showed you?”

He grinned. “I didn’t think my aim could get any better, ma’am, but you proved me wrong.”

She laughed, a barking laugh that seemed too big for the room they were in. “So I take it I’ll be getting half your profits from now on?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting.

He leaned forward. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll buy you a replacement tea set for the one I chipped, once Lord Adlersbrunn pays me for getting rid of this banshee.”

“How generous,” she laughed.

“Have you seen it?” McCree asked, curious.

She shook her head.

“Heard it?”

She looked at him, her tea held up to her lips. “No,” she said, her voice firm.

“What?” he asked in response to her pointed look. “There something I’m missing?”

The alchemist rolled her eyes with a sigh, and looked at him again. “Why would a banshee wail at me?” she asked, sorrow falling over her face. “Whose death could she possibly herald?” 

“Right,” said McCree quietly. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked down at his tea. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s alright, Jesse.” She sighed, and he looked up. Her eyes were full of a pensive sadness, a familiar melancholy he had seen there before. “I finished mourning years ago,” she reminded him gently.

“Still…” he bit his lip, apologetic. 

“Oh, Jesse,” she scoffed, “wipe off that guilty puppy dog face and tell me about a monster you took care of this year.”

“Well,” he said, eyes on his teacup again. “There was this ghost in northern Italy…”

 

\---

 

As McCree left the alchemist’s clinic, he wondered if he should have told her about the yokai. There was a chance, however small, she might know the “friend” it had referred to.

Oh, well. He could tell her later. It was getting late, and they both needed rest. And truth be told, he wanted to keep the story of their encounter to himself, at least for a little while. Just for him.

The walk from the alchemist’s clinic to the inn at Aldersbrunn village was uneventful, though McCree was on high alert, given that he already knew of two supernatural entities in the area that shouldn’t be there. He wasn’t about to let his mind wander on the chance something else equally foreign but more dangerous showed up. Because yes, the yokai had seemed benign, even… friendly. And banshees weren’t dangerous per se, just frightening. But the fact remained that an Irish banshee and a Japanese yokai had somehow both ended up in Germany, at the same time, near the same town. 

He didn’t think about why or how, not now. He’d brainstorm in his room later. Besides, he’d left his books and notebooks at the inn when he’d checked in earlier, and he would prefer to write down his thoughts as they came. He could also read over his notes about other monsters that had come here from far away. He hadn’t looked at most of those notes in years. Bad memories attached.

He arrived at the inn just as his coat was getting damp again. He jogged the last few steps to the door. When he entered, however, something stopped him in his tracks. As he closed the door behind him and quietly greeted the barkeep, he spotted it at the back of the room. A familiar red ribbon, hanging from the back of a familiar brown coat, with its silver-studded epaulettes and black leather hood.

McCree narrowed his eyes and strode purposefully across the room, to the table the wearer of the coat was sitting at. He placed a gloved hand on her shoulder, and jerked her around to face him. Sombra.

“What are you doing here?” McCree hissed, keeping his voice low.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she smirked, not at all startled. She gingerly took his wrist and lifted his hand off her shoulder.

“Yes, I would. Have you been following me?” McCree demanded.

Infuriatingly, Sombra broke eye contact to look at her fingernails. “Of course not,” she said. “Maybe I just have a soft spot for this town.”

“I find that hard to believe,” McCree growled. 

“Why, whatever do you mean, McCree?” she asked innocently, looking up at him and batting her long eyelashes.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said. “You’re not stupid and neither am I.”

She huffed, and turned around all the way, lifting her feet out from under the table to put them on the other side of the bench, and leaned back, arms crossed.

“Come on, Sombra,” he said. “You’re gonna tell me eventually, because you’re a show-off and you like attention, so just tell me now.” He was right, and she knew it. She pouted. He didn’t react.

Sombra sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “I heard there was a banshee in the area. This place is some kind of magnet for foreign monsters, and I wanted information. And maybe some work.”

“Oh, so you’re deliberately encroaching on my turf,” he said, folding his arms. “I see.”

She leaned forward and spread her arms. “I don’t see your name on it,” she smirked. “Besides, you and I work different corners of the market, anyway.”

“You and I both know that’s not true, so don’t insult me,” McCree scowled at her. She went through this charade every time they crossed paths, like if she said it enough times he would start believing her.

“Yeah it is,” she insisted. “I hunt demons,” she gestured at herself, “and you hunt monsters.” She tapped him on the nose with her finger and gave him what she probably thought was a winning smile.

He swatted her hand away. “I can kill a demon just fine. And I’ve seen you kill a vampire, so don’t give me that shit.”

She huffed and leaned back again, resting her elbows on the table behind her. “I’m not going to kill your banshee, McCree,” she said. “I want information. Seven years ago a vampire from the Near East shows up in the Black Forest, near this town. Two years later, an Egyptian ghoul shows up in the same area. A year after that, a Siberian werewolf. Last year, a Spanish ghost. And now, an Irish banshee.” She counted on her fingers as she spoke. “That’s five monsters in seven years from at least a thousand miles away each,” she said, holding up her hand to him, five fingers splayed out. “I wanna know why.”

Damn. She had connected the dots before McCree had. And she didn’t even know there was a Japanese yokai in the area. Unless she did. 

McCree considered trying to find out, but decided against it. If she didn’t know, and he said something like ‘do you know of any other foreign monsters in the area,’ she’d pick up on it immediately.

“Alright,” he said tentatively. “Who have you talked to already?”

“Not the guy who’s paying you, so don’t worry.” She smirked. “You can help me out if you want, after you finish the job. Or before.” She winked.

“Now why would I do that?” he asked, not even trying to hide the suspicion in his voice.

“Because we’re friends?” she said, giving him another attempt at a winning smile. 

“Oh, so have we reached the part where you offer to buy me a drink?” he asked, knowing it was coming. It always did.

She grinned, a genuine smile this time, and slid sideways on the bench, revealing two pints of beer behind her on the table. McCree sighed, rubbing his hand across his face, exhausted, and sat down beside her.


	2. Are you scared?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse questions some locals for information about the banshee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm publishing this later than intended because my beta reader has a life or something? What a jerk am I right

Adlersbrunn Castle was much the same as McCree remembered. Its stone spires towered over the muddy ground before it, steadfast. But it looked less formidable in the drizzle than it had in the thunderstorm that had been raging the first time he was here. 

He turned to Sombra. “Don’t try and sneak in and snoop around while I’m talking to Lord Adlersbrunn,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied slyly, looking at her fingernails.

He took a deep breath and sighed. At least he could say he’d told her not to. “Alright, get out of here now,” he said. “They’re gonna come out and get me any minute and I don’t want them to think you’re with me.”

“Just ask him the questions I told you,” she said, reaching out to pat his breast pocket, where he’d put the paper she’d given him. 

He brushed her hand away. “Go.”

Sombra pouted, and turned around to walk away. McCree watched her until she disappeared around a corner, then turned back to the castle. The enormous wooden door stood tall, not as sturdy as it had once been. He kept his eye instead on the small stone doorways at either side of it. 

Out of the one closer to him, a cheery-looking woman in a squire’s uniform appeared. “Hello!” she called with a wave.

“Hey there,” he replied, and walked over to meet her. “You got taller,” he said as she led him inside.

She laughed. “I did! My lord doesn’t think so, though.” 

“He’s so tall I guess everyone shorter than him looks the same height to him,” McCree said. 

The squire laughed again. “Wait here,” she said as they arrived at a sturdy-looking oak door. She slipped inside and he heard her say, “Mr. McCree is here to see you, my lord!”

“Send him in,” said the unmistakable, booming voice of Lord Adlersbrunn. “Then you may return to your training, Brigitte.”

“Yes, my lord!”

She reappeared in the door, and opened it wide to usher him inside. “See ya!” she said once he was in the room, and closed the door behind him. 

McCree removed his hat, and tried his best to smooth his hair back before approaching the chair where Lord Adlersbrunn sat. It was an enormous chair, and yet Adlersbrunn himself was so large that with him in it, it seemed unremarkable. 

“Mr. McCree,” said Lord Adlersbrunn, spreading his arms in greeting, “Welcome.” His expression was warm, despite the circumstances. You’d almost think he was happy to have McCree at the castle. But McCree had never been here for any reason but the town’s terror. The vampire, the ghoul, the werewolf, the ghost, and now the banshee. He had called on McCree to take care of all of them. 

“Well met,” said McCree, stopping just short of where Lord Adlersbrunn sat. “I received your letter, as you can see.”

Adlersbrunn nodded, and gestured for him to continue. 

“I have a few questions before I can go about my hunting.”

“Of course,” said Adlersbrunn. “What do you need to know?”

“First,” said McCree, taking a small notebook out of his pocket, “Who heard the banshee, and where were they when it happened?” He took a pencil out of another pocket, and turned to a blank page before looking up expectantly. 

“Ah, it was my squire, Brigitte.”

McCree blinked in surprise, then frowned. “She didn’t look like she’d heard a banshee,” he said, glancing over his shoulder though he knew she was gone. 

“Yes, she is a brave young woman.” Lord Adlersbrunn’s face was shining with pride. Something felt… off.

“Did you… talk to her about it?” McCree ventured, treading carefully. “Brave or not, a banshee’s cry isn’t something you… well…” He bit his lip, searching for the right words. “Are you sure she’s alright?” he finished, completely unsatisfactorily. 

“Oh, of course! We spoke about at length it the night it happened.” 

“Which was what night, exactly?”

“It was three days ago,” said Lord Adlersbrunn. “You arrived quickly.” He gave McCree a big wink. Whatever that was supposed to mean, McCree didn’t want to bother trying to figure it out. This conversation was a waste of time now, when the person he should be talking to was walking away as they spoke. 

“Right,” he said. “And who else knows about the banshee?”

“Everyone. It’s been the talk of the town ever since it happened!” 

“Has anyone else heard it?” McCree said, and looked up to meet the knight’s eye.

“If they have, they have not informed me,” replied Lord Adlersbrunn, meeting McCree’s gaze, now equally as serious as the hunter.

McCree made a note in his book. “Alright,” he said, “May I speak to your squire?”

“But of course. You will find her in the practice range. Do you remember where that is?”

“I do,” said McCree. He had been there on a previous visit, years ago. Someone had given him a tour of the castle after his triumphant victory over the werewolf that had made its way to Adlersbrunn from Siberia. 

“You may go,” said the lord. “I wish you the best of luck.”

McCree smiled as he turned to leave. “Luck,” he said, putting his hat back on his head, “has nothing to do with it.” 

McCree walked out of the castle and around its wall as quickly as if he’d been shown the way just yesterday, and not four years ago. The air outside was calm, but grim. He was troubled by the lord and his squire’s apparent lack of concern towards the banshee. Had she somehow convinced him it hadn’t disturbed her? A banshee’s cry should inspire a unique depth of fear, and McCree hadn’t seen it in Brigitte. Just her usual cheery disposition. 

The practice range was behind and below the castle, lower on the hill, though it would still be a sunny place in the summer. Not now, though. Not at the time of year where clouds seemed to cast over the sky for months at a time. The squire was bundled up in a wool tunic as she beat a practice dummy with a mace.

“Hail!” he called down the hill to her. 

She turned with a start, and relaxed upon seeing him. “Hey!” she yelled back with a wave. 

McCree trotted the rest of the way down the hill. Brigitte shouldered her mace to wait for him, her chest heaving from exertion.

She had caught her breath by the time McCree made it to her side, and she greeted him again with a warm smile.

“McCree!”

“Howdy, Brigitte,” he said with a tip of his hat.

Brigitte giggled. “Something I can help you with?” Her expression was mild, and her posture relaxed. How?

“I want to talk to you about that banshee you heard,” he said, keeping his tone of voice neutral. He didn’t want to make her panic. A banshee’s cry was a memory that could shake people to their core, even years after the fact. He was expecting the color to drain from her face, or for her to shudder, or avert her eyes.

To his surprise, she stood up a little straighter, and said “Oh. You mean like, where it happened and all that?”

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling out his notebook again. “I’m gonna need to know where you heard it, where you saw it, if you did see it of course, and at what time.”

“Okay,” she said, and waited as he turned to a fresh page before continuing. “I was in the forest, over there.” She pointed out across the valley, over the bare treetops. “There’s an old building just there.” She circled her finger around some point in the distance. In response to his questioning look, she tugged him closer and turned his head to follow her finger.

“Do you see it?” she asked. 

“Uh,” McCree squinted. “I think so?”

“Anyway,” she said, releasing him, “I use that as a landmark. I was on my way back from a blackberry patch there,” she moved her finger to point slightly west of where she had been pointing, “and that’s when it happened. It was just after dusk.”

“Did you see it, or just hear it?”

“I saw her,” said Brigitte. She pulled her eyes away from the forest in the distance to look at him. There was something in her eyes now. Not dread, not fear. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“What did it look like?” he asked.

Brigitte held his gaze silently for a moment before speaking. “She was pale, like a ghost, with long white hair. She was wearing a gray cloak, and she had bandages wrapped around her hands and arms. And her eyes were red. Not her eyes themselves, I mean, but around them. Like from crying.” 

McCree copied her description into his notebook. “How far away from you was it?” he asked, not looking up from the book.

“Maybe 30 paces?”

“Got it.” McCree made a note, and then looked up. “One more question,” he said.

“Go ahead,” said Brigitte.

He looked at her for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“W-what?” The question seemed to catch her off guard.

“Are you alright,” he repeated. “A banshee is… a horrifying thing. I wouldn’t blame you for being shaken up. Or worried about your family.”

She frowned, shifting her weight. “I guess I am worried… a little.”

There was no use sugarcoating it. McCree was trying to help. “A banshee’s cry portends the death of a family member,” he said.

“I know…” Brigitte was staring at her feet. Her grip on her mace tightened, though she didn’t move it from its casual position on her shoulder.

“Have you thought about going home? To be with your family for a while?”

“Home is a long way away,” she said, her voice small. 

“It might be worth the trip,” McCree said. “It’s up to you to decide.” He put his hand gently on her shoulder. She jumped and looked up at him. The look in her eyes was uncertain, worried. 

“Think about it for a while,” he said. “Talk to Lord Adlersbrunn about it.”

“Okay,” she said softly, “I’ll give it some thought.”

“Atta girl,” McCree said, giving her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Alright, I’ll be heading off. Send me a message if you wanna ask me anything, you hear? I’m staying at the inn in town.”

She nodded. McCree turned to climb the hill again. As he made his way up, he heard the sound of a practice dummy being smacked with a mace start up again.

-

Sombra was waiting for McCree when he arrived back at the inn.

“I’m not gonna bother asking how you got into my room,” he said, closing the door behind him. 

She smiled sweetly from her seat on his bed. “So what did you find out?” she asked.

“Got a description of the banshee from the lord’s squire. She’s the one who heard it. She also told me when and where it happened.”

“Is that it?” Sombra looked annoyed. “Didn’t you ask the questions I told you to?”

“Adlersbrunn said everyone in town knows about the banshee, and no one else has heard it that he knows of.”

Sombra huffed and sat back against the wall, arms crossed.

“So what about you? What did you find out?” McCree asked, taking off his coat and pulling over the chair from the desk in the corner.

“What, you think I went snooping around while you were in the castle?”

McCree squeezed his eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to roll them. “Just tell me.”

Sombra said nothing for a minute, pouting under his glare. Then she sighed, and said, “Nothing about the monsters that we didn’t already know. I don’t think most of the townspeople know more about those monsters than that they were here. Except,” she leaned forward, a gleam in her eye, “alchemist Amari.”

McCree narrowed his eyes. “She’s not gonna wanna talk to you.”

“I know,” said Sombra. “You, on the other hand…”

He groaned. “Alright. Just write down what you want me to ask.”

Sombra beamed. She scrambled off the bed, heading for the desk. As she grabbed a piece of paper, McCree turned to his bag to get out a book of notable European monsters.

-

The two worked in quiet for a few minutes, before Sombra turned around and walked over to hand him the paper. “What are you looking up?” she asked him.

“I’m comparing the squire’s description to the banshees associated with the ancient Irish houses,” he replied. “Looks like it’s not a famous one.”

“No repercussions for killing it, then,” said Sombra. 

He nodded. “It’s not like I could really catch it and take it back to Ireland, but it’s good to know there’s no risk of some old family getting angry at me.” He closed the book. “I also checked for anything like the other monsters that’ve been here.”

“And?”

“Nothing. They’re just random ones. Whatever they have in common, it’s not in here.” He tossed the book onto his bed and stood up. “I’ll go to the alchemist’s clinic now.” Pointing his finger at her, he added, “Don’t follow me.”

“Of course,” she said, a cheerful smile on her face.

-

It was midday, but smoke rose from the chimney of the alchemist’s clinic. Maybe she had lit a fire to keep the damp cold at bay, although that would be unusual for her. She tended to prefer blankets and hot drinks for keeping warm.

McCree knocked on the door of the clinic, and a few moments later Ana answered it.

“Jesse!” she said. “Back so soon?”

“Howdy,” McCree said, tipping his hat at her. “Can I come in?”

“You may.” She stepped aside to let him in. “Did you take care of the banshee already?” she asked as she shut the door behind him. 

“No,” he replied, “But I will tonight. I wanted to ask you a couple things.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” McCree took off his coat, and hung it on the hatstand beside the door, taking care not to disturb the bundles of dried herbs hanging from some of the pegs. “Not to do with the banshee specifically, but more the pattern of monsters that end up in this town.”

“What do you mean?” Ana asked, as the two of them walked out of the front room of the clinic, with its benches and coat racks, and into the kitchen.

“Well, take the banshee for example. It’s a long way from Ireland.” He looked for her nod of understanding before continuing. “It’s the same thing for the other monsters that’ve appeared here. The ghost, the ghoul, the werewolf… all from over a thousand miles away.”

“And they came here,” said Ana, her brow furrowed, deep in thought. 

McCree nodded. “I’m thinking there’s something they have in common, or there’s something here that’s somehow attracting them.”

“And you think there’s something I would know about that?” Ana asked. She gestured for him to sit down, and went to one of the cabinets to get out a pair of teacups. 

“If anyone in this town would know, it’s you,” he replied as he took a seat. There was a pot of tea already on the table, nestled in a knitted blue tea cozy. 

“What makes you say that?” Ana asked as she set the cups down on the table. “It’s green tea, I hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine,” he said, reaching for his cup. “And you traveled the world when you were younger. I thought maybe you’d been some of the places those things came from.”

Ana took a seat, and picked up her teacup. She held it to her lips, not drinking. “Let’s see. I’ve been to Siberia, where the werewolf was from.” She sipped her tea thoughtfully, staring off into the distance. “Although I’ve never been to Ireland.”

“What about Egypt?” McCree asked. “The ghoul was Egyptian.”

Ana nodded. “I went there many times.”

“What about the south of Spain? That’s where the ghost was from.”

She shook her head. “I met some Spaniards in other places, I think, but I never went there.”

“How about, uh,” McCree hesitated. “Persia? Where the vampire came from?”

Ana stiffened. McCree did his best not to wince. He had had to ask.

“I have been there, yes,” she said, her voice steady. But she didn’t look at him.

After a moment of silence, McCree cleared his throat. “So,” he said. Ana seemed to relax a little, and turned her eyes to his own again. Relieved, he continued, “I don’t know if you saw many monsters on your travels or if you were just sightseeing, but… is there anything you learned? Could the monsters have something in common?”

“Most of what I learned on my travels was to do with alchemy,” she said, “not monsters.”

“But?” McCree said hopefully.

Ana laughed, that barking laugh of hers, filling the room. “Some of the alchemy I saw was to do with quelling malevolent spirits. So I know a thing or two about it, even if that’s not what I specialize in.”

McCree leaned forward eagerly to listen, placing his tea down on the table. He didn’t care for the taste.

“Ghouls and vampires are malevolent inherently,” Ana said, “Werewolves and ghosts are not.”

“I know that!”

“I know you know, Jesse,” she sighed. “If we’re trying to think of things they have in common, we must start somewhere.”

“Alright,” he said, and leaned back again. “How about… what did they all do when they got here?”

“The ghoul tore up the cemetery, the werewolf killed sheep, the ghost wailed,” Ana said. “The things those monsters are supposed to do.”

McCree huffed. “Sure, but--” he stopped. “Ana,” he said slowly, “did you ever go to Japan?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I did, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask?”

“Because between you and me, there’s another monster around here. A yokai.” He leaned forward, keeping his voice low despite the fact that they were alone. “That’ll probably tie in too, somehow.”

Ana’s eyebrows went even higher, disappearing into her hijab. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “You’ve met him!”

“What?” said McCree.

The door to the back room opened. He whipped his head around and saw a familiar face, scarred, handsome, with inky black eyes, peeking out from behind it.

McCree’s jaw dropped.

The yokai stepped into the kitchen, and closed the door softly behind itself. “That is the man I met in the forest,” it said to Ana.

Ana turned back to McCree. “You didn’t tell me yesterday that you met him?” she asked.

“I wanted to… to keep it to myself,” he said, feeling his face grow warm. “Keep it… private.”

“Private?” Ana stared at him, bewildered. McCree glanced from her to the yokai, who winked at him. He felt his heart skip a beat.

“Uh,” he said, looking back at Ana, “I just-- I was gonna tell you today. I did tell you today.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to say something, but the yokai interrupted her.

“We were not properly introduced yesterday.” It held out its hand. “I am Genji.” 

McCree stood, and reached out to shake it. As their hands touched, he felt his heartbeat pick up, pounding in his chest like a drum. “I’m Jesse McCree,” he said, trying not to sound breathless.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” said Genji.


	3. Takes a woman to know it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree, Ana, and Genji discuss the pattern of monsters in the area. Then McCree and Genji discuss something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, and I really wanted to update, so this chapter is a little shorter than originally intended. Sombra will return next time!

“So, Ana is the ‘old friend’ you mentioned yesterday?” asked Jesse. Genji had taken a seat with them at the table, and was now sipping a cup of tea of his own.

“She is,” said Genji, “We met many years ago, when she traveled to my home.”

“And now you’re here… for a visit.”

Genji nodded. “I hid in the back room when you knocked.” He inclined his head towards the front door. “But I recognized your voice. And when you mentioned me I felt it would be appropriate to come out.” He took a sip of his tea, closing his eyes as he did so.

“I guess I might as well ask you directly, then,” said McCree. Genji opened his eyes and looked at him, and McCree’s breath caught in his throat. His heart began to race as Genji fixed those inky black eyes on him, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Do you have anything in common with all the other monsters that’ve made their way here over the years?”

“Anything in common?” said Genji, a thoughtful look on his face. “Not that I know of. But I know very little about them.”

McCree sat back in his chair with a disappointed huff. 

“Madam Amari was just telling me about some of those monsters, actually,” Genji went on. “The last time I was here was six years ago.”

After the vampire, before the ghoul, thought McCree. 

Genji took another long sip of tea. “Little did I know a pattern was to develop after the vampire.”

McCree’s gaze flicked to Ana, but she didn’t flinch or stiffen the way she had when McCree mentioned the vampire, only sipping her tea in silence. 

“Okay, how about this: if you met Genji on your travels, did you also meet any other monsters?” McCree paused. “Not necessarily the ones that came here, but ones of the same type from the same place?”

“Well,” Ana said, looking thoughtful. “I did see ghouls in Egypt. I never met any werewolves in Siberia, however. Heard about them, yes. Talked to people who dealt with them, yes. But never came face to face with one.”

“Are you sure? What about one that hadn’t transformed? They could’ve been one and just not told you.”

Ana nodded. “It is a possibility.”

The three sat in silence for a minute, drinking their tea. Thinking. 

Genji was the first to speak. “Do you remember anything any of them said, before you killed them?” he asked McCree.

“Are you asking if I questioned them or something?”

“No,” replied Genji. He turned his inky black gaze to McCree. “But sometimes people reveal things about themselves without prompting.” His eyes gleamed in the lamplight, and McCree’s racing heart kicked up a notch. He got the feeling Genji wasn’t just talking about monsters.

“I do remember the ghost,” he said quickly, trying to ignore his own rising blush. “It was hard to understand its voice, but it wanted to be banished, it said so.”

“I remember that,” said Ana. “She somehow got stuck between this life and the next, without meaning to. Heaven knows how she got all the way here from Spain before anyone helped her.”

“Were any of the others here for help too, perhaps?” Genji looked over to Ana as he spoke.

“I think that ghost was a bit of an oddity,” said McCree. “Most monsters wouldn’t go seeking that kind of ‘help,’ if you ask me.”

“They could have been here for some other kind of help,” Genji replied. 

“What kinda help could a ghoul need that it could get here?” McCree asked.

“I do not know,” said Genji. “But perhaps that could be your next line of investigation.”

“Oh. Right.” McCree got out his notebook, and started to write. 

Ana been to Siberia, Egypt, Persia, Japan.  
NOT Spain or Ireland.  
Learned about alchemy on her travels. Some alchemy to do with malevolent spirits.  
Met ghouls in Egypt. Did not meet werewolves in Siberia.  
Ghost came here for help-- maybe others did too? Investigate.

He closed his book, but left it on the table in front of him. 

“I have something else to ask,” he said, remembering one of the questions Sombra had given him. “About the banshee. It’s not to do with looking for help, but… the cry of a banshee heralds the death of a family member, right?”

The other two nodded, and McCree continued. “If it’s here to do that, why? Did it come all this way to portend a specific death?”

“Perhaps the death of a particularly important person,” said Ana.

McCree nodded. “Or, if it was here for some other reason, maybe it cried to the lord’s squire by coincidence. It just so happened to run into someone who’s family member was about to die.”

“An interesting line of reasoning,” said Genji. “The question must follow, is anyone in the squire’s family important enough for a banshee to come over a thousand miles away?” 

McCree made a note of the question in his book. “I’ll look into all this later. Go through my books and ask around some more.” He stood up, and tucked his notebook back into his pocket. “But my first order of business is to take care of the banshee. I’m gonna try and find it tonight, in the spot where the squire saw it.”

“Did she tell you anything else about her?” asked Ana.

“She gave me a physical description of it,” he replied. “I compared that to the ancient Irish banshees, and it’s not associated with any important Irish house, so that’s fortunate.”

“Did she tell you what the cry sounded like?” said Ana.

“Why do you ask?”

“Not all banshees sound the same. Some weep, some sob, some scream... You should know what to expect in case she cries to you, too.”

Ana and Genji stood, to accompany McCree to the front door.

McCree gave her a sad little smile as he took his coat carefully down from the hatrack. “I’ll say the same as you said to me yesterday. I ain’t got any family left either. No one for it to herald the death of.”

“I just worry about you,” she said, watching him pull his coat on and do up the buckles.

“I’ll be fine, don’t you worry none.” He spread his arms, and she stepped forward to embrace him. She gave him a tough squeeze, and he let out a laugh. When they parted, he saw Genji had averted his eyes, looking around the room at the benches and tables, all the seats meant for ailing people to wait for Ana’s care in.

When McCree opened the door and turned to leave, Genji said to Ana, “I should be going, too. I shall return this evening, but I have some business to attend to.”

“All right,” she said, “you two have fun now.” Genji followed McCree out the door, and Ana closed it behind them with a firm click.

-

“So, how long have you known the alchemist?” McCree asked as they walked through the trees.

“I have known her for twelve years. She and her husband visited my home on their travels,” said Genji. “What about you? When did you first meet her?”

“I met her seven years ago, when that vampire came here. I was summoned to kill it. That was the first time I came to Adlersbrunn.”

“I see. You never met him, then?”

“Her husband?” McCree asked, his breath condensing into clouds as he spoke. “Yeah. He had died by then.” When Genji didn’t reply, he added, “I don’t know much about him.”

“He was a good man,” said Genji. “He helped me, when the two of them came to Japan. I was… troubled, back then.”

“What do you mean? He give you advice or something?” 

Genji laughed, a sound like leaves rustling in the wind. “No,” he said. “I was a malicious spirit. I brought ill fortune, created natural disasters. He had created a spell to quell such malevolence, and I was the first spirit he ever used it on.” His face was thoughtful as he spoke, and McCree felt his heart speed up again as he listened.

Genji was looking up at the clouds, a small smile on his face. “I am grateful to him for that. Without him and Ana, I would still be a cruel monster.” He turned to McCree, his smile widening. “The likes of which you might be hired to kill,” he teased.

McCree laughed. “You’re clearly not scared of me,” he said, “if yesterday is any indication.” He turned to look at Genji, and found him smirking back at him. “Flat-out telling me you’re a yokai was a bit risky, sweetheart.”

“Mmm,” Genji hummed. “It was also risky for me to kiss you, but I do not hear you complaining about that.”

McCree felt heat rising to his face as his heart picked up again. Was this why it was beating so fast? So it could pump all his blood to his face?

He reached a hand up, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Why did you stop me, anyway?”

“I did not stop you,” Genji replied. “You stopped yourself. Under a tree.”

McCree dragged his hand forward from the back of his neck, and across his face. “Right. Yeah. But why talk to me?”

Genji abruptly stopped walking, and McCree jerked to a halt a half-step later. “Something the matter?” he asked. 

Genji looked at him. “No,” he said, and reached out, taking the flaps of McCree’s coat in his hands, “nothing is wrong.” He pulled on the coat to turn McCree towards him, and McCree felt his heart pound. It was beating so hard he could almost hear it, yet he found himself leaning in to meet Genji halfway.

This kiss was less gentle than the first, with Genji pressing his lips to McCree’s rather than just brushing them together. McCree could feel the eagerness in Genji this time, but the yokai still didn’t part his lips, keeping the kiss controlled. 

McCree’s heart was thundering in his chest as Genji pulled back. “I must go,” said Genji. “Go kill your banshee, McCree. Then come see me again.” He pulled his mask down over his face, and lifted his hood.

McCree blinked, and Genji was gone. He gasped in a breath, and put his hand over his heart to feel it racing. He turned back towards the village, taking deep breaths that made clouds in the cold air.

-

McCree passed by the inn when he arrived in town, having decided to ask the squire about the banshee’s cry. There was no harm in having extra information. And the extra walk to get back to the castle would give him extra time to clear his head. He put his hand over his heart again. It had slowed to a normal pace, but it skipped a beat as he thought of Genji. 

Damn. What was wrong with him? Getting flustered like a teenager, and over a demon no less. He sighed. This feeling was… unprecedented. Maybe he should talk to Ana. Later.

McCree reached the top of the hill and began to walk around the castle to get to the training grounds. Brigitte would probably still be there; she was diligent above all else. If she was gone, he’d check the castle’s stables. But as he rounded the corner to the track down the hill, she appeared, jogging up it.

They ran into each other, her forehead colliding with his chin, and they both grunted in pain. She jumped back with a gasp when she got her bearings. “Sorry!” she said, throwing her hands up. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“A little,” said McCree, rubbing his jaw. “But I’m alright. You in a hurry?” he asked. She had certainly been moving fast.

“Oh!” she said, crossing her arms in front of her with a grin. “No. I’m jogging for the exercise.”

McCree chuckled. “Of course. Well, you got a minute then? I got one more question I need to ask you.”

“Oh?” she said, her expression shifting. “What is it?”

“Don’t look so worried now,” he said. “I just wanna know what the banshee’s cry sounded like.”

“S-sounded like?” 

“Yeah. I mean, was it weeping? Screaming? Sobbing?”

“Oh,” she said. “Sobbing. She was sobbing. It was… so awful.” She looked paler than she had a moment ago, discomfort plain on her face. She looked down at her feet, brows knitting together.

McCree gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I know it’s scary,” he said softly. “That’s why I really think you should talk to Lord Adlersbrunn, and maybe go see your family.”

Brigitte looked up, her face clouded with worry. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she returned it, weakly.

“I’ll be back tonight to kill the banshee. I’ll check in tomorrow, alright?” McCree asked. Brigitte nodded. “That a girl,” he said, and tipped his hat at her. She disappeared into the castle with a wave, and he turned once again down the hill to the inn.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to make it clear that the banshee is NOT Moira. Just some banshee.


End file.
